Farther Down
by trustmyrage
Summary: Lokane AU. Loki is cursed to live as a wolf by a spiteful ex-lover and cast into Midgard, meeting a young Jane Foster and living as her pet wolf. As the years pass, he slowly comes to care for her, but will he be able to protect her when the enchantress who cursed him comes back for vengeance?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This fan fiction does not strictly follow Norse mythology, the Marvel comics, or the Thor films.

* * *

We stood out in the cold  
And your eyes, they ate my soul  
Beg me to come back down

- Neon Trees, _Farther Down_

The mighty realm of Asgard was a glorious sight. Despite having spent most of his long existence there, Loki Laufeyson still found himself marveling at the massive structures and the skillfully crafted designs. A prince of Jotunheim, he was in the realm to visit an old friend and to see how the treaties were going with Muspelheim.

The fire demons were a fierce race, and with Thor Odinson a known hot-head and impulsive prince, his father, Odin, had decided it was best to have Loki by his son's side to assure that nothing would happen. Even Loki had silently agreed with the All-Father's decision when he'd read the letter, and had journeyed to the realm without hesitation. It was nice to be back in familiar surroundings and see open air, breathe the warmth of the sun, and hear the laughter of adults and children alike as he rode his horse towards the palace.

He wondered who would be waiting for him in the front courtyard: would Thor send one of his warrior friends, or would he come down himself to greet an old friend? Well, he was certain he would find out soon enough. He just hoped it wasn't…

"Prince Loki. Welcome to Asgard."

The smooth, seductive purr of Amora could be heard even above the noise that came from the city and the nearby practice arena, and her green dress rippled as she walked down the stone steps. Loki sighed as his horse came to a stop a few feet from her, though he made no move to dismount. Instead, he gripped the leather straps of the reins tightly, as if he planned to ride away at a moment's notice.

Amora was a beautiful Asgardian, knowledgeable in the art of magic and sorcery. There were many terms for what she was and what she could do, but "Enchantress" was one moniker that stuck to her over the centuries. Unknown to most, Loki and Amora had a rather torrid love affair two hundred years ago. Both being experts in magic, manipulation, and treachery, they had been drawn to each other like moths towards flame.

But this all ended the moment he learned of her attraction towards Thor. Trickster though he may be, he was not one for infidelity – actual or otherwise. His brotherly affection for Thor made his decision doubly firm, and it was only when he'd stepped back from the passion-induced haze their 'relationship' had given him did he see what she truly was. Frankly, she disgusted him.

But Amora was determined to have him back, and had tried all forms of magic to get him. It was only by casting a protective shield around himself did he protect her from her magical schemes of seduction. He thought her desire for him would wane overtime, but looking into her eyes, he could see it still burned with the same intensity. It was getting rather tiresome.

"Amora. Since when did you take over the more regal duties of the realm?"

Her smile was wide, yet sinister. "Oh come now, prince. Do you consider yourself that important to be granted an audience with the thunder god?"

"More important than you, apparently. I do remember a time when you asked to see him and you were refused. Blatantly."

All traces of mirth vanished from her face, and her eyes narrowed into slits. Loki simply regarded her with indifference, shifting his horse to the side so as to see her better. Finally she decided that throwing a fit wouldn't do her any good, and ended up adopting the same simpering smile she had on moments ago. Giving him a slight bow, she stepped back a few paces, though her eyes were on him.

Loki studied her for a few moments, finally dismounting, his boots thudding on the ground. One of the guards immediately stepped forward to claim the reins from him, and he moved further into the courtyard. As he passed Amora, he felt her hand clamp around his wrist. "Loki. What happened to us? We were so in love; what went wrong?"

"Surely you jest, Amora. Have you forgotten why I decided to leave you? Or do you continue feeding yourself the fantasy that what led to our fortunate separation was but a misunderstanding?" He looked at her, incredulous. He'd wondered whether she was insane or simply just an arrogant woman due to the praises she'd received over the years due to her skills, beauty, and mind control.

"Loki," was her almost pleading reply, but he would have none of it. Wrenching his wrist from her grasp, he turned away from her and walked up the steps, still feeling her eyes on his back. Oh what he wouldn't give to be fully rid of her…

"Loki!"

The trickster rolled his eyes skyward. _How many times must I hear my name be shouted to the corners of the nine realms? _

Thor strode down the hallway, his red cape swirling in the wind. His powerful warhammer, Mjolnir, was ever a constant presence by his side, and it glinted in the light as the thunderer approached. The grin on his old friend's face was contagious, and pushing any and all thoughts of the Enchantress from his mind, he allowed himself to be enveloped in Thor's embrace.

"It has been too long, Loki," Thor stated, clapping the Frost Giant on the back before pulling away. "But I am glad you are here. The fire demons don't stand a chance against the might of Asgard _and _Jotunheim."

"Indeed they don't. Surtur has overstepped his boundaries; Father is concerned of the growing threat of the fire demons in our own icy realm," Loki admitted. Laufey had been enraged the moment one of Surtur's demon allies had stepped inside Jotunheim, and had sent a barrage of Frost beasts to subdue the demon. Even Loki's own pet, Alfric, had joined the fray – the playful little beast had been the one to bring back the demon's head, much to his master's delight – and Surtur had stopped.

But they knew that the ruler of Muspelheim could be quite stubborn, and it would only be a matter of time before he would strike. This meeting of theirs was necessary, and not even the malevolent presence of Amora could dispel that. The two gods walked side by side into the throne room where Odin and Frigga were, flanked by a series of golden-armored guards. While the All-Father remained aloof, his queen stepped down from the platform and enveloped Loki in a warm embrace, which he returned.

"Loki. You look well," she commented, throwing Thor a warning look when he winked rakishly at her. The thunder god chuckled as he passed by both of them, stopping at the foot of the stairs that led up to the platform. "Come. I hope you stay with us longer, though if your own mother misses you…"

"I may be needed. The last attack was far too close to our homestead; Father wishes I be by his side for added reinforcements," Loki answered, regret tingeing his tone. He was fond of Frigga, who had been loving and kind whenever he visited. Add to that the fact that she was friends with his own mother – and had comforted her during her previous miscarriages – and she was like a second mother to him.

"Of course. Your skills have made you a valuable asset to your own kind." Another warm smile, and he excused himself from her presence to join Thor. Odin looked down at the two of them: a prince of Asgard and a prince of Jotunheim. Though his expression was unreadable, they could tell that he was anxious. Finally he stood, and almost automatically, the princes' postures straightened as well, as if copying the intensity of his presence.

"Surtur has declared war," he began, and the gravity of their situation was conveyed in those four words alone. "The treaties have been considered null; we must warn the rest of our allies and prepare for an invasion."

"Does Heimdall-"

"The fire demons will be here in a fortnight. That gives us enough time to prepare and spread the word to the rest of the realms."

"Even Midgard?"

Loki glanced at Thor, surprised. Midgard was considered one of the lesser realms, which was easily overlooked. Their lifestyle was archaic at best, and the inhabitants did not have the strength to challenge even Nornheim.

"Yes. It is under our care, and will be under _yours_, my son, the moment you become king. Loki, can the Jotuns be counted on?"

"Always, All-Father. My father and I remain your loyal allies."

"Good. Thor, make certain that the armies are ready, and send emissaries to the other realms. Surtur must be stopped and contained, at all costs."

Neither of the two princes need have asked what those 'costs' were. War among the nine realms came with casualties, and all for a few centuries' peace. But this was their way of life, their existence. They wouldn't have it any other way.

_If there was only some way to assure peace without bloodshed, though I know one who enjoys the strife_, he thought, turning from Odin and making his way out of the hall with Thor.

"Surtur will be crushed, banished within his own realm, Loki!" Thor exclaimed, grinning widely and twirling Mjolnir in his hands as they were joined by the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. As always, Volstagg was gorging on a handful of berries, popping each in his mouth every so often. "And we will have peace within the nine realms. You and I. This is our chance!"

"Yes, but before we can actually beat him, we need to _prepare_," Loki stressed, reminding Thor of what the All-Father had asked of him. "Isn't there something you should be doing?"

Thor paused, before realization dawned on his face. "Ah. Yes. I'll meet you later for a round of drinks, aye?"

"Do I have a choice?" was Loki's amused reply, before turning in the opposite direction. He needed to send a message to his father about the All-Father's instructions, and he needed a quiet place to do this. The west wing of the palace had a perfect spot: a veranda that overlooked the waterfalls that cascaded down from the river running beneath the palace. This was where he'd practiced many of his magical abilities, and this was where he and-

_No. Stop thinking about her. You've already gotten over your failed relationship with her haven't you? _

The soothing sound of the running water, coupled with the dull hum that came from the buildings in the nearby man-made valley below, helped him focus, summoning a light blue orb where he whispered his message, finally letting it loose into the sky, watching it until it disappeared.

"Still talented as ever."

He turned, his lip curling as he saw Amora once more. She was a persistent witch, and her very presence was like an insult. Loki made a move to brush past her, but she blocked his way with her body, pressing herself against him. Breath hitching, he noticed her smile knowingly, as if she understood why he had reacted the way he did. But it wasn't because of desire; it was of disgust.

"Stop following me, Amora. You and I have ended our relationship long ago; do not make me-"

"Oh punish me, Loki. You know you want to. I remember you enjoyed our little trysts where you were-"

"I said _enough_!"

He grabbed her by her wrists, pushing her roughly away from him. She staggered backwards, tripping on the hem of her dress, which caused her to fall onto the floor. For a moment they looked at each other, green eyes on green. Loki was stunned by the sudden turn of events; he didn't intend for her to get hurt. He had just wanted her to _leave him alone_.

"How dare you!" she shrieked, her shrill cry carrying over to the streets below. "How. Dare. You!"

Each word she spoke was punctuated by an energy ball, which she'd flung at him as she stood. The force of the energy balls caused _him _to stagger back, until he was pressed against the edge of the veranda. Each hit left a throbbing bruise beneath his armor, making it hard for him to breathe.

"I loved you, Loki! I gave you everything! But why must you deny me thus?!" Amora raised her hand, and he summoned his own magic against his palm. They released their attacks at the same time, causing a massive explosion that took out chunks of the nearby pillar and the wall behind the Enchantress.

With Amora distracted, he darted towards the hallway, but she was too quick for him. Casting a binding spell, she dragged him back towards her, twisting him around so that he was on his back and looking up at her.

"I _**loved **_you," she hissed, planting her foot on his chest and pressing down at it, as if she was trying to crush his heart. "You'll pay for this, for everything. I didn't know you could hurt me…"

"I…didn't…"

"Lies! Oh you'll know what it feels like to be alone with nobody to love you, Loki! Oh yes you will."

For a moment she gave pause, and while the trickster tried all he could to counter her magic, she still held him firm. Finally she lowered herself onto him, straddling him, and whispering a few words that he understood.

_Gods no, _he thought, as he translated the spell.

But bound as he was, he could do nothing but look up into her eyes, those green eyes that carried loathing and desire. The effects of the spell were quick: a sudden shrinking, bones cracking and adjusting, and the creation of...fur.

Amora shrieked with delight when she saw him, minutes later, and in his new form, Loki shivered. What words he uttered in defiance against her actions came out as a series of whines and shrill barks, though his eyes were the same emerald, his fur the same deep black.

She had turned him into a wolf cub.

"Now don't you make the sweetest pet, Loki? Perhaps in such a form, you can learn what _I _felt after you left me! Cast out, ignored…"

_Ignored? You had dozens of suitors! _

"Do not interrupt me, my love. Unloved, exiled…oh. Exiled. Wouldn't that be delicious?"

_No. Amora, we are at war with Muspelheim! You cannot-_

"Stop telling me what to do! Yes, yes, I will exile you to that accursed realm. Midgard. Oh yes. But don't worry. I'll return for you. Then we can forget all of this, start over."

_Go to Hel, Amora. May the fire demons consume you!_

A cackle was her only response, and she made complicated gestures with her hand. The sight of her against the backdrop of Asgard was soon replaced by darkness, swirling darkness, and in his cub form, he whined. The sensation was replaced by a sudden jolt of pain on his feet and hands – _paws? _he thought – and he cried out. A soft whine, and then another.

Before he could even wonder where in Midgard he was, a shadow loomed over him, and he froze.

* * *

Jane Foster was unlike other little girls her age. In her spare time she watched the stars, tracing figures on the sky with her fingers, and helped her father in his shop that sold an array of magical amulets, healing herbs, and other curios that benefitted a well-known alchemist and healer of his age.

While her mother, Emily, had died giving birth to her, she wasn't the type to cry over someone whom she had never met. She had moments where she missed her mother, wished she had someone to talk to over how silly boys were being, but she could do that with her father, John. That was their life: John and Jane Foster against the world.

With her seventh birthday coming up, she had decided to visit the small stream where she spent hours drawing 'star maps'. It was on this day when she saw something – a dark mass – fall from the midday sky and into a clearing not far from the edge of the woods.

"Papa! Papa! Something fell!" she cried, turning towards the direction of her house, where John was skittering around, trying to catch the sunlight into the liquid he'd poured into a bottle; a new remedy for coughs. At the sound of her frantic cries, the bottle slipped from his hands, the contents spilling onto the soil. He let out an irritated hiss but dismissed it a second later.

"What is it?" he asked, joining his daughter. He noticed where she was looking at, and he frowned a little. Together they looked into the woods, Jane straining her ears for a sound – _any _sound.

And then it came.

Softly at first, and then louder.

The whining of a puppy, or an animal close to it.

"Papa, it might be hurt!" she tugged at John's hand insistently, looking up at him when he didn't move. "Papa!"

"Stay here. I'll see what's making the noise." He rested a comforting hand on Jane's shoulder, while taking out the amulet he'd made that protected him from evil spirits. Waving it in front of him, he soon disappeared beyond the trees, though the crunch of his footsteps could still be heard.

Silence.

Jane was about to call for him again when the sound of feet against dry leaves sounded, as well as the occasional snap of a twig. She smiled when she saw him again, and her eyes widened when she saw what he had in his arms.

A wolf cub.

It had black fur, dark as night, and its paws were tucked beneath it. It studied her warily, looking up at John and baring its teeth. But for some reason it didn't try to flee, but instead stared back at her with those thoughtful eyes.

Those thoughtful, green eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

I saw you somewhere  
Farther down  
Did I expect it?  
Now I'm overcome with fear

- Neon Trees, _Farther Down_

Jane's laughter echoed in the meadow, accompanied by a series of yips. For those who had visited her father's shop, they knew what led to the girl's sudden bouts of happiness. For those who hadn't, the wolf cub's barks were answer enough. Many worried that the cub – whom Jane had taken to call 'Faolan' – would menace their cattle and livestock, but since its paws had been wounded, it had been confined to the four walls of the Foster home.

It was two weeks after Jane and her father had found Faolan, and the cub was testing its paws on the soft soil. The rains had come and gone, making the ground not too muddy or too stiff. At first the pup had simply stood at the entrance, looking at her like she was mad, raising its paws on the soft rug. But with her insistent calls of his name, and the tempting promise of a juicy piece of leftover steak – which she'd taken without her father knowing about it – she was able to coax her furry companion away from the house and further into the meadow.

She didn't realize what she had been missing until the little pup had entered her life. While she and her father had many happy times and fond memories with each other, he also had his own responsibilities. And when he was cooking away new potions and studying alchemy, she was left to her own devices. Jane sketched alone, played with her spyglass (which she'd made by herself using a bamboo shoot and a crystal her father had given her), and studied the herbs in the woods.

Now, she had Faolan. She could imagine them doing things together, and even though he couldn't talk back, it was comforting to know that there was some_thing _listening to her. The trees and bushes weren't exactly happy company, though her father believed that the plants had a language all on their own.

"Faolan! Come here boy!" she called, turning in a flurry of skirts and holding out the final piece of the steak. They were in the middle of the meadow now, with the late afternoon sun shining above them. As soon as the pup had approached her, nose sniffing at the tasty morsel, she fell onto her back on the grass, laughing, holding the steak just out of reach until the pup was practically climbing over her stomach to get it.

Finally dropping the piece of steak on the ground, she let out a giggle when Faolan's tail brushed her nose, followed by the little snarls as it wrestled with the food. Licking its chops, Faolan looked at her expectantly, as if it thought that she was still hiding more food somewhere.

"That's all. I couldn't get too much because Father would have noticed," she told him, to which the pup let out a bark, as if demanding that she rectify the situation immediately. She shook her finger at this, before patting the space beside her. Rather than lie down, like what most puppies were wont to do when their mistresses called them over, Faolan sat down and scratched its ear, before trotting away like a spoiled prince. "Faolan!"

The pup ignored her, continuing on its way. Jane pouted, but stood up and followed her pet, afraid that it would get lost or one of the villagers would take an interest in it and take it away from her. She loved Faolan, despite its strange habits. John even commented that the wolf cub acted more human than a wolf – not that he knew how wolves acted exactly – but there were signs. Like the way it had jumped up on one of the chairs in front of the dining table during its third night at their home; the bandages were a nuisance, but the wolf cub seemed to ignore the pain and had jumped up nevertheless. Then there were those times when it had lain down on Jane's pillow, as if the cub had been used to sleeping on a bed since it had been born.

But despite all these eccentric behaviors, Jane couldn't help but like her new companion. Her father may think that she was just desperate for a playmate, but she knew better. Faolan had a rather sweet side; it didn't snap whenever she tried carrying it, nor did it growl when she petted it. That was something in its favor. She knew that the moment the pup showed just the tiniest bit of hostility, John would have returned it to the woods, and it would have certainly died.

No, the wolf cub just needed…persuasion. That was something she needed to correct – keeping a wolf cub that expected something in return for any of its actions wouldn't do at all.

Jane caught up with the pup in a few strides, picking it up and coddling it as she made her way back to the house. Her father was still in his shop, but surprisingly there were raised voices. This was the first time she'd heard her father shout before, and frankly, it was frightening.

Pressing Faolan close to her (the pup, which had been trying to squirm away from her grasp, had even become quite still), she inched closer to the window, stopping before her father could see her.

"…don't see why you allow her to play with that monster!"

"We'll tame the cub; I don't see why _you_ can't understand that, Philip!"

"Because wolves are not meant to be pets! You'll regret it when the beast bites off your daughter's hand, and none of your potions can put it back right!"

"That's my decision. Now if you have nothing else to say, get out of my shop!"

Philip let out a hiss and stormed off, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden boards. Jane heard her father sigh and then the tinkle of glass bottles that meant he had gone back to arranging his shelves. "Papa?"

A sharp intake of breath, and then her father's footsteps on the floorboards. "Jane? Did you…?"

"Yes I did. Faolan did too. Papa we aren't going to let him go, are we?" Her voice was low, and she pressed her nose into the pup's fur. It smelled of earth and the steak, as well as of the sage growing near the house. "We can't let him go! He's so small...he might die!"

"Don't you listen to Philip, Jane. Don't. The man is a paranoid cattle farmer who likes to flap his jaws at every little thing; remember last year when you accidentally let loose the kite you'd made? He thought it was a bat from hell!" John's smile was so warm and reassuring that Jane just _knew _he would keep his word.

Faolan had stopped being the complacent pup and had wriggled out her grasp finally, but surprisingly stayed close to her, even rubbing its furry body against her lower leg. Her father saw this and smiled a little, knowing that to separate the two now would be cruel.

_Well there was a reason why we found the pup_, he told himself silently, turning back to his work. _Whatever it is, I just hope it's for Jane's benefit_.

* * *

_**10 years later**_

Living with Midgardians for ten long years should have felt like an eternity for a powerful Frost Giant/God of Mischief stuck in the body of a wolf (Amora had granted him the lifecycle of a wolf as well, it seemed). But Loki found himself enjoying his stay, mostly because of the new family he had found himself in.

John Foster was a kind man, and quite amusing at times. His alchemy knowledge was not as vast as those in Asgard, but it was still pretty impressive for a mere mortal. He was Loki's staunch defender, surpassed only by his own daughter, who had grown to be quite the village beauty. Women in the realm had already married at fourteen – some even giving birth to sons and daughters by twelve – but John had refused to let his daughter marry until she was old enough to actually survive childbirth.

"Your reproductive system is still small, and to give birth at that age…" He had clicked his tongue at the thought, and frankly, Loki agreed. Besides, he knew that Jane wouldn't like the idea of being married before she actually studied the stars and the planetary alignments, or prove that the world they were on revolves around the sun, and not vice versa.

Jane Foster was unlike the other women in the village in the sense that she cared more for expanding _what _she knew, rather than _who _she knew. Her days were spent keeping detailed records of the herbs that she encountered in her walks in the woods – always with Loki by her side – and her nights were passed studying the stars.

In his own way, Loki had grown attached to her, and was quick to defend her from the insipid and jealous girls who hurled hissed insults at her. Nothing gave him more satisfaction than to jump from behind Jane, teeth bared, fur erect, and snarling. It always sent the other girls shrieking and running in the opposite direction. Sometimes he allowed himself to act wolfish by howling at the moon – though this was more of a tactic to call for Heimdall's attention than anything else – and chasing his tail whenever he was bored.

On the whole, his exile in Midgard wasn't as bad as he feared it would be.

His only worry was the war with Muspelheim; time flowed faster in Asgard, which meant that the ten years he had here may have only been a week in the Eternal Realm at the very most. Amora must have given some excuse for his absence, and if she had cast that cloaking spell he'd taught her to shield Heimdall's eye from what she had been doing, then he may very well be trapped in this body. His magic was ineffective, as the form he was in did not have the required structure to cast spells. It was irritating.

Now wasn't the time for him to think about interdimensional matters or his lack of magic, however. Threat or no, there was something else looming over him, and he wasn't too keen for it to happen.

"Faolan, you know you need this!" Jane said, exasperated. He'd hidden himself under her bed, squeezing himself against the wall just to avoid her grip on his leather collar. "There are going to be visitors and you need to look your best!"

_What for? They're not going to ask for **my** hand in marriage; they're going to ask for yours!_

She strained for him again, but he was too far in. Jane made a little shriek of annoyance, but let it go. Loki relaxed, his spine lowering as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Got you!"

Startled at the sudden hand that had held his collar, he jerked up, banging his head on the underside of the bed. Jane tugged at his collar, and he grudgingly slunk out of his hiding place. He narrowed his eyes, to which Jane smiled a little, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"I'm sorry Faolan, but Papa wants you to look nice as well. And _smell _nice…have you been rolling around in the compost pile?" Jane clicked her tongue and held his collar again, leading him to the already soapy tub. Another tug and he leapt in, splashing water everywhere, including on Jane's skirts. She sighed, and he gave her a goofy wolf grin, which turned into a wince as she started scrubbing his fur.

This was humiliating, and if Amora were watching, she most likely was laughing herself hoarse. In fact, most of the things he did were degrading for someone who was used to order armies and mighty Asgardians about, but he had no choice. He'd recognized the need to act as much as wolf as he possibly could, otherwise they would have driven him away.

The suds were nearly over his eyes, but she brushed these back with her hand, rinsing the soap on his head before washing his ears, and then the rest of his body.

"Well look who's _finally _getting clean," John commented, walking inside the room with a pile of freshly washed dresses. As always, he had a wide smile on his face as he looked at his daughter fondly. Loki sniffed to show his derision, and John laughed. "Apologies, but you've been dodging this for months."

To Jane, he said: "Have you chosen a dress?"

"_Yes _Papa," she stressed, forming bubble horns on Loki's head, which he shook off with much gusto. "I'm the one attending to the suitors, not you. Though I'd rather be watching the night sky." The last phrase she said under her breath, and Loki turned to look at her, silently agreeing, before averting his head again.

A few more fierce scrubs later (she'd even washed his tail) and he was shaking off the excess water, splattering everyone and everything in the room. He grinned inwardly at their reactions: John grumbling in annoyance, and Jane muttering to herself why she hadn't brought him out of the room and into the garden where he could dry himself. Satisfied that he was dry – or close to it – he sat down and waited.

John had finished putting Jane's dresses in her trunk and was now the one who reached for Loki's collar. He blinked once, finally letting the mortal lead him out of the room while Jane changed, giving her privacy. There were times when he stayed in the room when she changed into her nightclothes, and he had to admit that she had quite a nice figure. It was one of those times when Thor would have told him to 'wolf whistle', but since his mouth wasn't built for it, the only thing he could have done was howl.

But then that would be rather telling.

A dull hum greeted his ears when he and John walked into the hallway, the noise growing louder until they reached the receiving area. The moment Loki padded in, he stopped.

No less than ten men of different shapes, sizes, and ages were gathered there, all talking among themselves. The dull hum that he'd been hearing was their conversation, intermingling until it resembled the sound of a bee's wings. When they saw John, however, they all stopped. One by one, their eyes slid from their potential father-in-law to the wolf standing beside him, and one visibly swallowed.

"Is this the famous Faolan?" One of the suitors stood, setting the tankard of ale down. He was tall and muscular, with arms like logs, and a mop of dirty blonde hair. He reminded Loki of Thor, but the difference between the two men was that Thor had more manners. He didn't like the look of _any _of the men, and his fur slowly stood, and a low growl formed in his throat.

John's heavy hand on his head stilled his reaction, and he looked up, irritated at the sudden gesture. The man shook his head subtly, as if telling Loki to behave. Another sniff and Loki sat down, though he never took his eyes off the men.

"Blake Donaldson! It's such an honor to have you here." John walked over to the man who had just spoke, shaking the man's hand. Blake shrugged rakishly, a smug grin on his face.

"Your daughter is a known beauty, John. It would be an honor to be her husband."

A series of "ayes" echoed around the room, as the other suitors reminded Blake that he had other competitors. Blake regarded them coolly, as if he thought he had already won. Loki longed to sink his teeth into the man's flesh – the first time he felt so since becoming a wolf. Both his human and wolf instincts told him the man was dangerous, and that behind that cordial smile lay a heart of ice.

_Was this the man John planned on handing Jane over to? Absolutely not._

The very idea made Loki furious; he hadn't realized that he had stood up again, still boring holes into Blake's back. The other suitors noticed Loki's stance and looked away, as if making eye contact with him would cause him to snap. For several seconds he just stood there, fur raised, teeth bared, and body lowered.

_If I were still a man, I would have thrown you out of this house for simply existing, _Loki thought viciously.

"Blake, the wolf's been lookin' at ya for a coupla minutes now," another of the suitors said, jerking his head towards Loki. It was then when man and beast stared at each other, both determined to win this slight battle of wills. Blake was the one who broke eye contact, as Jane stepped into view.

Loki turned towards the stairs, having smelled her scent the moment she had stepped out of her room. Wolf though he was, he still had enough of his 'normal self' to appreciate the way her dress accentuated her figure, the neckline not too low-cut, and her hair falling in soft brown waves down past her shoulders. Her father's birthday gift for her when she had turned sixteen – a pearl hair clip – helped pull several curls away from her face.

He trotted up the stairs and stopped beside her, earning him a smile and a gentle pat on the head. Together, Loki and Jane descended the steps, and whenever a suitor tried approaching, he growled. The other suitors shrank back, but not Blake. Nearly kicking Loki aside, he pressed a rather wet kiss on Jane's hand before bowing.

"My lady, I-"

"You just kicked my pet wolf, _good _Sir," Jane interrupted, sidestepping him and checking to see if Loki was alright. Glaring at Blake over her shoulder, Loki's gaze softened when she looked at him. "I know he is but an animal to some, but he has been my companion for many a year."

"I apologize," Blake answered quickly, and tried to make up for his error by patting Loki on the head. His fingers were but an inch away when Loki tried biting the appendages off.

"No, I should apologize," Jane began, and Loki looked at her in disbelief.

Was she really going to ask for forgiveness to that beast of a man?

Jane was quiet, as if she was thinking hard. Even Loki wondered what was going on in that head of hers. Finally she straightened, steeling herself for what she was about to say next.

"I cannot do this. All of you have come here tonight to ask for my hand in marriage. But how many of you truly know me? Have any of you ever bothered to meet me prior to this day? Can anyone of you say one thing you know about me?"

The room was silent. Even Blake, for all his previous boasts, couldn't find the words. Loki, however, admired her even more for her wisdom. She was right, after all. None of the men truly knew her, nor had they even bothered to see past her beauty. Loki, on the other hand…

_What are you even thinking? She is your __**friend**__._

_A friend who takes care of me, protects me…_

_And you do the same to her. Dare you even think that you've grown fond of her?_

_Even if I have, she likes me as a wolf. She doesn't know who I am. And if she does meet me, she might not even like me. _

_Well you can't really say, since you're stuck in this body. _

The fact that Jane would never meet him, the real him, bothered him more than he cared to admit. Even the look on Blake's face when he realized that he had been rejected could do nothing to ease the pang he felt in his chest, and he snorted. The sound drew Blake's attention, and the man's eyes narrowed into slits. The way he looked at Loki should have chilled his blood, but the trickster had seen worse looks on fiercer warriors.

Once the suitors had all filed out, the soft clopping of the horses' hooves as they rode away from the Foster home, John approached his daughter. Loki, finding the events of the night tiring for his wolf body, went over to John's armchair and curled up, though his green eyes glittered in the firelight.

"Jane-"

"No, Papa. You saw them all, the way they looked at me? If I am going to marry, I want someone who'll love me the way you loved Mother. Not someone who wants me as a prize on his arm. Someone who doesn't care what I look like or what I do, but who accepts me whole-heartedly." She held her father's hands, as if she was trying to persuade him to see her point of view.

John sighed as he held her. "Oh Jane. I only want what's best for you. If you think none of them are going to make a suitable husband, then we'll find one who will."

"Thank you, Papa."

Loki shifted his head so that it rested between his paws.

_What if you already found one? _


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, make me fly for something more  
You've been asleep for days now  
Living inside your dreams

- Neon Trees, _Farther Down_

The news of Jane refusing all her suitors was the only thing the rest of the village talked about for the next couple of days. There were those who thought she was a silly girl who had given up a chance at a happy life, and then there were those girls who were relieved that she had left them potential husbands.

Whatever the rest of the village thought, it didn't stop the Fosters from continuing their everyday lives like nothing happened. John's shop continued to flourish, and Jane added new star maps and explored the woods behind their home with her pet wolf. The only change that came was in the form of a letter a week later, which contained an invitation – Loki thought it was worded more like a summons – to have Jane visit her aunt.

John seemed eager to have his daughter get a change of scenery, but Jane and Loki weren't. Jane didn't like the idea of leaving her projects behind, while Loki didn't like the idea of _being _left behind.

He didn't trust any of the mortals fully – so far, Jane and her father were the only ones accorded such a luxury – and after meeting Lilith during several of her visits for the past few years, he decided that he didn't like her.

Blonde, giggly, and the epitome of a flirty wench, she reminded him too much of Amora. Her dislike of wolves only added to this animosity he had towards her, and he knew he would rather be damned than have Jane visit the woman alone.

So there they were, wolf and mistress, engaged in another war of wills that only one of them was determined to win.

"Faolan, come on."

_No._

"Please?"

_I am not letting you go on some whimsical trip on your own. I'm coming with you. _

"Papa, are you certain I must do this?"

"Your aunt misses you. It would do you good to-"

"No, Papa. I meant leaving Faolan behind. He looks so...so...well, look at him!"

Loki blinked back at both Midgardians slowly, showing them that they would have to use massive oxen to drag him away from the plush seat on the carriage. The moment he'd heard that John was sending his daughter away for a few weeks to visit her aunt in the town twenty-five miles away, he was determined to come along. Not only was he wary of letting Jane go on a long trip by herself, but also he knew he would miss her.

And if there was one thing the God of Mischief was, whether he was human or wolf, it was being rather _clingy_.

John sighed, scratching the back of his head as he looked at the massive black wolf. "Your aunt cannot stand animals. It would be an imposition if you bring him along. Think of it this way: you'll be back with him after a week. I'll take good care of him, I swear it."

_No, you'll force feed me rubbery meat and use me as your guinea pig for your healing potions. I am not going to be subjected to that once more._

Jane wasn't convinced, yet she tugged at Loki's collar again, pulling him an inch towards the edge of the seat. Finally she climbed into the carriage, sitting down beside the wolf. Her hands scratched at the back of Loki's ears, and he leaned forward so that she could access the spot better. He allowed himself to let out a short bark, and she smiled. "You're welcome."

"Jane, you need to leave now," John reminded her gently.

"Alright. Faolan, you need to stay here with Papa. Please? For me?"

Loki stared back at her, torn between going with her and doing her a favor by watching her lovable oaf of a father. But he remained firm, turning his head away from her, resting it between his paws. He heard her sigh, and then the carriage shake a bit as she stepped down.

He expected the Fosters to insist that he come down, but was surprised when they had the driver go home and set the carriage close to the side of the house. Jane entered the house, and Loki's ears perked up when she called for him. Convinced that they had decided not to push through with their foolish plan, he jumped out of the carriage and nearly skidded inside the living room, his furry body bumping against Jane's legs.

She giggled then, and he looked up at her to give her a brief, wolfy grin. Satisfied that they'd abandoned their little game of having Jane travel a long way to visit an undoubtedly now-pockmarked old woman whose only desire is to feel young again by having her attractive niece visit, he curled up on the rug near the fireplace. John busied himself with the newest batch of cough medicines, and every time glass clinked in the shop, his ears pricked up. Everything was back to normal, and that was the way he liked it.

Come dinnertime, Loki consumed what meats Jane had prepared for him on his own plate – they'd long given up trying to feed him on a bowl on the floor – and eavesdropped on their conversation. While most of the topics centered on the possibility of them creating a new store in the next village, every now and then John tried steering the talk towards the visit. When he did so, Loki stopped chewing and let out a low growl.

"Papa, I'm not going. Not unless Faolan is with me," Jane repeated, until finally John gave up the matter entirely.

The food was delicious as always, and he found himself wanting a second helping. Halfway through the meal, however, Loki felt his vision swimming. He blinked fast as if that could help him see better, but he could still feel his eyes drooping.

_No. They…wouldn't…I should have known…_

Just before his eyes closed, he felt a soft hand on his head and heard Jane's apologetic murmur. "I'm sorry, Faolan. But this was the only way."

He managed to let out a soft _woof_ before darkness claimed him, and he grew still.

* * *

Jane eased herself into the carriage, biting her lip as she pulled her hood over her head. She hated having to deceive her own pet like that, but it was necessary. Yes, she didn't like the idea of having to visit her aunt so suddenly, but her father was right. A change of scenery would do her good, and frankly, she was tired of having to hear the countless hisses that the females and several of her jilted suitors had made whenever she visited the main market.

Normally such things didn't bother her, but these had become too frequent over the past week. Her solace was improved by Faolan's presence, which she was entirely grateful for. Time and again she nearly changed her mind, especially after she'd laid the wolf on her bed. He'd appreciate that, at the very least.

"Papa, I don't think I should-"

"Jane. You saw how he reacted when he learned you were going off alone. If you plan to leave, you must do it now. I suspect he won't be too trusting of me when he wakes," John interrupted. His expression softened at that, and he lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know how much Faolan means to you, my darling. I promise you that I won't let anything happen to him while you're gone. He'll be just as you left him."

She'd sighed, but finally agreed. Aunt Lilith was her mother's younger sister, and as a girl she had been a frequent visitor in the Foster home. Now, with a grandchild to take care of, such visits had become fewer and far between. Since the incident with her suitors, it seemed prudent that Jane accept such an invitation.

John gave her one last hug, and then whispered a few last minute instructions to the driver. They were to stop at the inn in the next village – a mere ten minute ride away – to wait for morning. As soon as dawn came, they would then head on to Lilith's home. By then, they would be far away for even Faolan to follow, and John would make sure the wolf wouldn't escape.

As the carriage ambled down the worn path, she turned around in her seat and glanced back at her home and her father, waving at the latter. The soft glow of the candle in the upstairs room told her that her pet was lying on the unseen bed, and she lowered her gaze.

Being apart from Faolan was new to her, and she felt…hollow. It was as if an essential part of her was missing.

Finally she decided to dismiss such thoughts, and sat down properly. The driver was silent throughout the ride, and Jane was grateful for it. Lost in her own mind, she knew she wouldn't make articulate conversation.

The inn was nearly empty, and the innkeeper quickly showed Jane to a room. It had a single bed, a wash bowl, and a trunk at the foot of the bed, but otherwise was empty. After giving the man payment for room and the space for the carriage and horses in the stables, she closed the door and barred it, sinking onto the rather hard mattress.

_I'm sorry Faolan_, she thought for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. _I'll make it up to you when I return_.

She rolled onto her back, the ceiling strange and unfamiliar. She half-expected a furry body to press against hers, and a series of heavy sniffs that usually told her the wolf had curled up beside her. The lack of such a sensation was proof that she had, indeed, left her pet behind.

What was strange about this whole affair was that she felt so completely attached to the animal. Most of those who owned pets in the village didn't feel as strongly as she did, and didn't find it difficult to leave their dogs at home whenever they made merry during celebrations in the next village, or even further than that. But she, an educated woman, was nearly falling to pieces at the thought of having to be apart from her pet for a few weeks (two, her aunt had specified in her letter).

It was a puzzle.

Then again, this was the first time she'd been apart from Faolan – perhaps she just needed some time to get used to the idea. Yes, that was the most _logical _explanation. And her father had promised her that he would take care of the wolf, and her father had never broken his promises to her yet.

Everything would be fine.

Yes, they most certainly would be.

* * *

_**One week later**_

The scratch of quill on parchment was irritatingly loud in his ear.

Everything was irritating.

After waking up on Jane's bed, it didn't take him long to know that they had slipped a sleeping agent into his food – liquid form, most likely, since he didn't bite on anything strange while eating – and Jane had left while he was unconscious. Part of him wondered why she'd allowed her father to do something like that to him, and he'd stewed in his own resentment towards both Fosters for a few days.

Admittedly he'd forgiven Jane in a heartbeat, but John…not entirely.

The scratching of the quill stopped, and the soft _whoosh _of flame being ignited followed, telling Loki that John had lighted another candle. It was shortly after dinner on the seventh day since Jane's departure, and both man and beast were full with the venison John had roasted.

Loki had stolen one half of the venison from the spit, and he knew it was out of guilt that John didn't pursue the matter further. Indeed, he'd watched the mortal while tearing off hunks of the steamy meat, and the man seemed to be unable to meet his eyes. Either that, or John Foster was more aloof than he let on.

"How can this be?" John murmured, and the vicious sound of a quill point against parchment was heard as he crossed out several items about whatever he was writing. Loki guessed that the man was listing profits for the week, but right now he didn't care. Shifting in place, he knew his green eyes were glittering in the firelight, and when John glanced over his way, Loki narrowed his eyes. "Faolan, stop sulking. She'll be back in five days – she said so herself."

_Oh yes, gloat about how you can still read and I cannot. I've learned to read long before you were conceived, mortal!_

"And don't give me that look. I miss her too."

The sadness in John's voice was hard to miss, but Loki sniffed and continued watching the man. Finally John groaned, slapping the quill down on the table and turning to face the wolf. "Very well. How about we come to a deal?"

_I'm listening._

"If you stop misbehaving-"

_Oh do stop blowing things out of proportion. I barely touched your spare stocks of medicine. And your leather boots. And your food._

"-we'll go fetch her ourselves in three days."

_Two._

At the sound of the two barks, John scratched his head. "By the gods, I sometimes wonder if you're human. Alright. Two days. Do we have a deal?"

Loki paused, increasing the tension present between them. He liked seeing the man sweat a little – it was a small price to pay for tricking a trickster. Finally he sniffed and made a small wolfish nod, which John caught.

"We have a deal then. No more antics, and we leave in two days." Hands clapping on his knees, he smiled and turned back to his work, while Loki lessened the ferocity in his eyes and decided to nap. After what felt like mere seconds – though the low height of the candle on the table told him otherwise – he smelled a new presence. It was very familiar, and a low growl formed on the back of his throat as he slowly stood on his haunches.

"Faolan? What is it?" John continued scribbling a few more figures on the parchment before setting the quill back in the inkwell. He turned his head towards the direction the wolf was growling at, finally going to his feet. "Who's there?"

"Blake Donaldson, good sir," came the rough, drunken tone of one of Jane's former suitors. A short knock, and then two. "I only wish to speak to you."

With a sigh, John got to his feet, holding a hand out as if to tell the wolf to stay. Loki, who barely obeyed anyone – including Jane – paid no heed and followed. The moment the door opened, Blake stumbled in, the tankard in his hand falling to the floor with a dull _clunk_. "I…only wish…to…to…_you_!" Blake had seen the black wolf, and anger flared within him faster than the flame John had lighted a few hours ago.

The last word was said in a snarl, which Loki returned with one of his own. His fangs were bared, and his hairs were all standing on end. John glanced from the drunkard to the wolf, before stepping in between them. "If there is something you wish to tell me, please do so now. There are many things I must do-"

"To the seven hells with you, old man! Stand aside!" Blake shoved John away, causing the latter to stumble. He'd managed to grab onto the side of the table, although his ribs collided painfully with the wooden edge. Paying the man no heed, Blake advanced towards Loki, unsheathing a dagger.

Loki was about to launch himself at Blake – any and all qualms for mortal diplomacy be damned to Helheim – when a flash of white appeared before him, followed by a grunt of pain.

"Stupid old man," Blake swore, and Loki's eyes widened as he saw John slump to the floor, the dagger embedded in his chest. A dark red pool of blood was slowly spreading from the open wound. Man and wolf looked at each other, and even though Loki never felt a close of an affinity towards John than he did with Jane, he reacted almost instantaneously.

Leaping at Blake, his fangs sank deep into the mortal's throat. Blood gushed from the wound and past Loki's lips. Blake's screams and Loki's growls mixed into one horrible cacophony, and whenever the former tried to reach for the knife still embedded in John's chest, the wolf tugged the unfortunate suitor further away. Pulling, tearing, biting…the attack seemed to stretch on for hours.

Whatever blow Blake managed to land on him, Loki returned with a fiercer, deeper bite. Soon, Blake was but a shivering mass on the ground. His throat had been completely torn open, with the neck bone exposed. Blood streaked Loki's entire snout, yet only the adrenaline pounded through his veins.

His breath came in a series of brief pants, and he turned towards John. A soft whimper, and then a whine came from him as he saw the glassy-eyed stare of the man who had died for him.

The inhabitants of this realm and of Jotunheim were very different, but they both recognized and respected sacrifice. Even now, staring at the brilliant John Foster, Loki found it difficult to believe that he was gone, killed by a jilted and jealous suitor. Throwing his head back, he let out a long, mournful howl that was answered by another, though it came from a mile or so away. It had not been a gesture of kinship, but rather of mourning, regret, and gratitude.

_If I could, John Foster, I would make it so you have a proper burial. Your sacrifice will not be in vain._

For a moment Loki considered his options. He could stay, be discovered, and possibly killed for murdering a human. Or he could leave and go to Jane, who would most likely receive news of her father's death before he even arrived in her horrid aunt's home.

There was only one option he wanted to take.

_There is nothing left for me here. The only person I can call sanctuary is her. Jane._

With one final look at John, Loki turned from the dead man and walked out into the night.

He didn't know where Jane was, and what scent she might have had on the trail was long gone. But he did glimpse the address on the letter Jane had sent: a small town in Tromsø. Twenty-five miles. More or less forty kilometers away.

The distance didn't deter him one bit and, keeping close to the shadows, he slunk past the village borders, not feeling a hint of sadness at the thought of leaving the place he'd called home behind. That place was with Jane – and John, in a way – and since she was in Tromsø, that was where he was going to go.

Home.

* * *

_**Asgard**_

Amora shifted in place, the spinning orb in front of her showing the black wolf leave the pigsty of a home. For some time she'd watched as Loki endured a new life – complete with the lifespan of the animal she'd cursed him to – waiting for him to plead with her to take him back.

But he never did.

_He is a stubborn, manipulative little shit._

_And to think that once, I called him mine. _

The Enchantress shook her head, her blonde hair fanning out around her as she did so. _No. He is still mine. Whatever fondness he might have for the father, surely it cannot be extended to the shrimp of a daughter?_

Doubt was setting in. She didn't think of watching him every moment of his exile, since the war was coming to a head. Add to that the fact that Laufey and Farbauti were on the lookout for their son, and to show anything but concern – however faked it might have been – would have cast suspicion on her immediately. She wasn't known for her goodness, and it was only because of the shield spell Loki had taught her had she gone undetected when she'd cast the curse on him.

But for how long she could keep this a secret, she didn't know.

With a pursing of lips, she swirled her hand around the orb once more, this time showing the face of the mortal woman who had taken Loki in when she was but a child.

_He is __**mine**__. I will not have his affections taken from me by a mere mortal. Your father's death will be but the first of your many sufferings, and the wolf you prize above all else will be powerless to help you._

* * *

**A/N: To all those who reviewed, thank you very much! I'm sorry I haven't replied to each and every one of you, but I just want you to know that I appreciate all the things that you guys have said. Hopefully I continue meeting your expectations with this fan fic! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

Heaven help me heaven help for the way I've been

- Neon Trees, _Farther Down_

_Dead._

The letter fell from her hands and settled on the floor, and she barely heard her aunt's demands to know why she had gone so pale.

_Dead. He can't be dead. Papa…_

Jane bowed her head, her brown hair serving as a curtain to shield her from the rest of the world. She didn't expect it to happen…she wasn't even there…_why_…

"Oh my dear," Lilith crooned, her thin fingers resting on Jane's shoulder. "I am truly sorry."

But what condolences her aunt doled out next were left unheard and unheeded, as the world around Jane faded into nothingness. There was nothing but the dull roar that slowly rose with each passing second, and before long she had collapsed into blackness.

Lilith had noticed her niece crumple to the floor, and with a brisk clicking of her tongue, had her son, Edward, bring the girl to her room. At first, she thought the visit was going to help her gain the recognition of the lords of the village; her niece was _such _a beauty. But now, she knew that the girl was going to be an imposition. Curious, intelligent, and utterly unconcerned with things that most girls her age were interested in, Jane wasn't what she'd expected.

Whenever a lord's son visited, the silly girl was nowhere to be found. Most of the time, Edward had to fetch her from the woods or even in the outlying fields, all because she wanted to study the stars. Lilith didn't know what to make of her, and had half a mind to send her home to that strange man her older sister had married. Lilith never thought of John Foster as family, only because he had snatched her older sister – who was the village beauty – from the clutches of a wealthier suitor who could have raised their family to a higher status.

Now Jane seemed to have inherited her mother's tendencies for choosing someone (or some_thing_) that would do her no good. And she would rather be damned than to take on another mouth to feed.

"How are we going to send her home if she has no home left, Mama?" Edward whispered as he set the table.

Lilith sighed in exasperation, ladling some mushroom and cabbage soup onto the bowls. Every time she thought about it, she felt like screaming. John's death couldn't have come at a bad time; the man never did get the hang of opportune moments. If he'd have died the next week, she wouldn't have minded, because that meant that Jane was already home.

To send her away now would make Lilith look heartless, and she didn't want to appear so in the eyes of the lords. Another irritated noise escaped her, and she walked back to the kitchen. Edward followed her, meek as a mouse, taking the utensils and the plate of roast pig. Every now and then they enjoyed luxuries like this; Lord Cathalow had given them a pig just yesterday in an attempt to persuade Jane to see his son.

Again it didn't work; Jane had preferred to see the anomaly she called a 'shooting star' rather than take a simple walk down to the glen with Merrick Cathalow. If only she had been born "normal"…

"See if she's up!" she nearly barked at her son, who nodded and headed to the room. "If she doesn't wake, she doesn't get any supper." The last statement was said in barely a whisper; she'd rather be damned than waste the roasted pig on a grieving girl.

Edward came back, shaking his head. Lilith sat down with a roll of her eyes, before helping herself to a few slices of roast pig. Her son sat across from her, silent. She thought he was going to go hungry – the boy seemed to _like _his strange little cousin – when he took a particularly juicy slice for himself. For several minutes they both sat in silence, until they heard the deep rumble of thunder in the sky.

"Looks like the rain is coming," Edward murmured, yet they both knew that the rains weren't due to come for another month. Another roll of thunder came, followed by quick flashes of lightning, and then the sudden and fierce downpour. Edward had no choice but to dart out in the rain and make sure the chickens were in the coop and that the nanny goat was inside its pen.

Suddenly a torrent of snow came, followed by another downpour. This sudden change in the weather frightened Edward, who ran pell-mell back inside the house, tracking mud and a bit of snow inside. "Mother! Mother the…the weather…it's…it's…"

"What is it now, Edward?" Lilith asked, bringing the plates to the sink. Seeing the mud and snow on the floor, she scowled. "Clean it."

"But-"

"No 'buts', just do it," she retorted, as she started washing the dishes. Glancing over at the dining table, he saw that there were only a few pieces of the roast pig left. He was about to take the remaining food to his cousin when Lilith came back, and he covered his movement by making his way over to the wooden cabinet where they kept the cleaning rags.

_What brought the sudden weather changes? _he thought, staring up at the ceiling, as if it held the answer. Now the rain was pouring, the drops making a dull hum against the roof. He just hoped the thatched roof could withstand the rain, otherwise his mother would be very cross indeed.

* * *

_I wasn't there. They buried my father but I wasn't there. _

Jane stared at her fingers, which seemed thinner than before. For the last two days she'd been there, she had lost weight, if only because she threw up every bite of food that she consumed. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, and the only thing that plagued her thoughts was her father and Faolan. The latter hadn't been seen since, and it was believed that someone had taken the wolf and had killed it for fur and meat.

As much as she wanted to go back home and see if the rumors about her beloved pet were true, she couldn't. The rain continued, coming in quick, furious sheets. She'd refused Merrick's offers to take her to his castle where she'd be warm, dry, and well-fed, and had opted to help her cousin around the house. The chores helped her take her mind off things, and it was only when she lay in bed did the thoughts come flooding back.

Edward, sweet Edward, was there for silent support, handing her pieces of cloth with which to dry her eyes, but her aunt was acting rather strange. Prior to getting the news of her father's passing, Lilith was happy and willing to do things for her and introduce her to all the villagers. Now, Jane noticed that a sudden shadow had passed over her aunt's normally cheery attitude.

But she never dwelt on it for too long; she was determined to pull her own weight until she could go back. Yet the weather was a major deterrent, and many healers in the village believed it was the sign of an angry god. For the rains didn't just come, so did the snow, hail, and gusty winds. These built up steadily each hour, only to switch to a new weather pattern.

Travelers were dissuaded from using the roads, and any and all trade was stopped for the moment. This meant that Jane couldn't go back home, at least until the weather became stable. And even if she went back, what was left for her? Her father had left a mark as a talented healer, but as a woman with a fierce interest in the stars and other celestial bodies, she had next to no future, even if she kept her father's business running.

And knowing some of the characters in her village, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that some, if not all, of her father's belongings had gone missing. No, there was nothing left for her there. Her only alternative was to find a husband, which was something that she disliked above all else. She didn't like the idea of being bound to a man, a man who would most likely tell her to forget her dreams and to become the wife _he _wanted her to be.

She was much more than that. Jane knew there were other things to do, places to see, and knowledge to learn. If she married, she wouldn't have the chance to do everything she wanted. There was hardly a man in the surrounding towns who understood her; those who did were the older tutors who had wives or families of their own, or had even taken a vow of celibacy.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Jane wished she'd been born a man. It was a reckless desire, something that she wanted ever since she was a child. And all because society prevented her from doing what she wanted and being who she wanted to be.

Educated.

"Jane!"

Her aunt's singsong voice broke through her thoughts, and she slowly stood, brushing off some dust from her skirt. "I'm coming, Aunt!" she called, making her way out of her room. When she reached the living room, she was surprised to see Merrick leaning against the rafters, with her aunt standing a few feet away, looking pleased. "What…what's happening?"

"Lord Merrick wishes to ask you something, dear niece," Lilith said. "I'll give you two some privacy."

Before Jane could protest, the blonde woman hurried out, but not before she caught a wide smile on her aunt's face. Heart pounding, she turned to face Merrick, who had a rather sickly look about him. There were black bruise-like spots on his neck, and he seemed…delirious. The moment he saw her, he grinned toothily and made his way over to her, murmuring nonsensical words under his breath. His foot caught on the side of the bench, causing him to promptly stumble and crash to the floor.

"Lord Merrick!" Jane moved over to him, setting the back of her palm on his forehead. He was hot. Very hot. "Aunt Lilith!"

Lilith came back in, her eyes widening when she saw Merrick lying on the floor. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! Aunt, we must get him to a healer; he has a very high fever!" Jane could see her aunt processing the scene, and she had to repeat her second statement before the other woman was jolted back into action. Edward hurried through the rain to fetch the village healer, while Merrick's footman helped the two women lay him on the table.

Soon enough the healer arrived, and diagnosed him as having a mere fever.

"What about these black bruises?" Jane asked, pointing to the black dots on Merrick's neck, which looked like small swollen spots. "Fever isn't usually accompanied by those."

"He merely bumped on something on his way here," the healer replied smoothly, though a flash of irritation ame over his features. "Nothing to worry about."

"Forgive me, but do swollen spots appear all over the neck?" she persisted. Behind her Lilith covered her face with her hand, letting out an exasperated sigh.

The healer frowned at her over his bushy eyebrows, snapping his brown bag shut. "If you think you're so clever, you heal him then! But you'd best explain to his father what happened to his son!"

"But-"

But the healer threw her one last withering glare before sweeping out, pulling his hood over him as he slammed the door shut.

"Now look at what you've done," Lilith said. "He could have helped us!"

"But Aunt Lilith, I've seen people who've come down with fever, and those swollen bumps are _not _part of the normal symptoms!"

"Enough! I know your father allowed you free reign over your desires to prove yourself well-educated, Jane, but the world will not stand for it!" her aunt shot back. "Now go to your room! You've caused enough trouble! You're just a silly, delusional girl who will grow old a maid, all for the sake of _knowledge_!"

Tears sprang to Jane's eyes, but she wiped these away fiercely. Never had she expected her aunt to be like this. Yes, she knew her aunt was a vain woman, but to throw such words at her…it was as if she didn't know her aunt at all. She heeded her aunt's advice however, shutting herself up in her room.

Merrick seemed oblivious to all that was happening; his head turned this way and that, clearly in a state of delirium. Even as Lilith and the footman brought him into his carriage, the only sounds he made were strange murmurs. As the carriage pulled away, however, Lilith heard the hacking sounds of someone vomiting. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her hood further over her face and slipped back inside.

* * *

_**Asgard**_

She was having fun.

Her jealousy over the perceived attraction Loki had towards this Jane Foster had reached its peak, and she was determined to put a stop to it. The first thing she did was to make a few needed changes to the weather patterns, so that Loki would be unable to reach the mortal woman in time. This also served to stop the Midgardian witch from leaving, trapping her in a village that was slowly being eaten inside out like a worm within an apple.

Amora smiled to herself as she continuously manipulated the weather around the location where the God of Mischief was, as well as the village where that homely mortal of his was staying. Rain, snow, fierce winds…these were just some of the erratic weather that she sent to plague both Jotun and Midgardian.

Distracted as she was to stop the two from ever meeting, she made certain to cloak her actions using Loki's shield spell. Again she marveled at how something he had taught her was now preventing anyone from helping him. The war had already erupted, and it was Laufey who led the Jotun forces in his son's stead. Farbauti had now traveled to Asgard to help with the search for her son.

Many thought that it was uncharacteristic of Loki to leave on the eve of an important conflict, and Amora exerted the usual amount of effort in the search. She had even traveled to Midgard herself, but only under the guise of prodding Jane's staunchest suitor into storming to the Foster home. It had proved to be a very fruitful visit, and now she was sowing the seeds of death and destruction in the area.

"The Black Death. Mm. Fitting," she murmured, watching as the lord's son slowly succumbed to the disease, unwittingly spreading it to the rest of the town. What were a few dead mortals to her, if that meant teaching Loki a lesson? What did she care if an entire town was wiped out because of the disease that had been born out of her spite?

All that mattered to her was bringing the God of Mischief back to her, and she certainly couldn't do that if a Midgardian woman stood in her way.

Just as she was about to send a downpour over the town, she heard two sets of footsteps outside her chamber. Waving her hands, the bowl of water she used to cast her magic disappeared, and when Thor Odinson and Fandral the Fair entered, they saw the Enchantress reclining in her loveseat, her eyes closed as if in deep sleep.

"Lady Amora," Thor greeted, and the green eyes – so reminiscent of Loki's own – fluttered open, focusing after a second or two. "We wish to speak to you."

"But of course, my lord," she stated. Gesturing to the chairs close to her, she rested her head back on the feathery pillow, knowing that she looked utterly ravishing at that moment. "What is your will?"

"They say Loki was seen in your company before he disappeared," Thor began, and a small swell of panic rose within her. She reminded herself that she had the same acerbic tongue as Loki, and could easily spin a web of lies that would raise her above suspicion.

"Indeed he was. I admit that I was…begging for him to come back to me," she murmured, her eyes dropping downward before resting on Thor's blue ones. "I still love him, my prince. I always will. But he didn't listen, and I had to watch him leave."

"So easily? Forgive me, my lady, but you aren't exactly known for letting men go," Fandral asked.

_Oh he is getting smarter_, she thought, though she bit back the smile that threatened to form. _Thinking with your brain than with the thing between your legs, I see. _

"I know what you all think of me. But I love him. I truly do. I couldn't…I can never stay mad at him for long." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she wiped it away. "I miss him, and I worry about him constantly. I just want him back, so he could play his role in the war."

Thor was looking at her thoughtfully, and she waited for his verdict, all while doing her best to look concerned, earnest, and sad all at the same time. Fandral studied her as well, though not as ardently as the thunderer. Amora knew the fair-haired warrior was admiring her beauty and the way her dress hugged her curves more than deciding if she was telling them the truth or not, but she kept up the pretense just to be safe.

Finally Thor nodded, leaning back with a sigh. "Laufey is threatening to pull his forces from the battlefield unless Loki returns. _Why _would he even leave? This isn't like him."

Amora didn't answer; she knew that to offer an alternative would make Thor wonder if she was trying to divert his attention onto other matters. Instead, she sighed softly as well and turned her head, as if she was drifting off into her own daydream.

Thor seemed to think that there was nothing left to ask or learn from her, for he bade her a good day and left her chambers, closing the door softly behind him. Before he left, he encouraged her to come to him if she thought of anything that might help, and she had promised him that she would.

Once alone, however, she waved her hand over the spot where her basin lay, which showed her the black wolf that was curled up behind a set of bushes.

* * *

_**On the road to Tromsø **_

The road was rough, and the route he'd taken even rougher still. Loki had opted to take the forest road rather than the main one that snaked through the lands and connected the towns, if only to avoid being followed by the hunting party.

His feet – or paws, rather – were getting tired from all the walking, and he'd given in to the limits of his current body by sleeping for five hours and hunting his food for another thirty minutes. The woodland rabbits of this realm were rather fast…

After leaving the Foster home, Loki had made a straight course to Tromsø. The forest road was clearly unused, and he could barely make out the path that snaked past the trees. But his determination to reach the village spurred him on. Jane was alone with that wench of an aunt of hers; he was the only family she had left.

Loki knew that Jane's true family was her aunt, but he had a feeling that the older woman did not have her niece's best interests at heart. Being a liar and a trickster had made him a connoisseur of like-minded people, and all he saw and heard from Lilith were _lies_.

Why he held on to the unspoken promise to John Foster to take care of Jane, he didn't know. All he knew was that the three of them had formed a home in Midgard, and if he was fated to die here, he wanted to do so in the company of familiar people. Not in some dark, isolated corner of the realm, for that meant that Amora had won.

The hours slipped past, and again his paws were aching. Even wolves like him needed to rest from all the running and walking, and with night fast approaching, he knew he needed to rest soon. It wouldn't do him any good to reach Tromsø completely exhausted, after all.

Finding a spot behind a cluster of bushes, he curled up and slept. His dreams were of Asgard and Jotunheim, of the bloody images that came with the sight of war and conflict. Interspersed with such images were of Amora, her evil laugh, and her oath that she would come back for him.

A growl formed in his throat at this, but he was too deep asleep to even hear it. He woke to the sun's rays streaming through the gaps of the trees, and he yawned and stretched, shaking his body as if to dispel the soil that had stuck to his fur as he lay there.

He began his trek once more, this time managing to steal a few bites of unattended roast meat on a spit, and scaring several squirrels just to keep himself from being bored. When the forest road gave way to the main road, he opted to stay further along the treeline to give him time to duck out of sight.

It was during the second day that the weather suddenly changed: furious sheets of rain poured down from the sky, soaking him in a matter of minutes. He'd pushed on despite the way the rain beat against his body, until finally he conceded defeat and sought shelter in a small 'cave' of rocks. What caught his attention the most was the erratic manner with which the weather changed.

After the third downpour, Loki realized that this pattern had a more _celestial _origin.

_Amora, _he growled, half-hoping she could hear him. _Stop this madness at once! _

But like all the other days where he called for aid, his mind remained silent. The sky, however, wasn't, and remained so for hours. Finally accepting that the weather wasn't going to cooperate – and he had a very good idea why – he slunk out of his shelter and continued on foot.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you to those who pointed out that error in the last chapter; it's been fixed. :) Now I know the Black Death came from fleas that were carried by rats and other rodents, but for the purposes of this story I changed it a bit. I _did _base the symptoms on the actual symptoms of the Black Death, so there you go. Also, the next chapter will be a tad short, since it'll serve as a bridge between these events and the events that would come after it.**


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